For Survival
by River Tam
Summary: A series of Oneshots dedicated to Lowery and Claire. Rated T for gorey content at times. Prompts in reviews/messages are welcomed and encouraged.
1. Open Your Eyes

" _Please, open your eyes."_

The plead was soft, yet forceful. The woman in question was known for that, known for putting all her heart and soul into a task. It showed in the way she ran her company for six years before the shutdown. As the operations manager of Jurassic World, you had to be tough. You had to account for casualties and deaths. You had to have blood on your hands. But there in lies the problem; she didnt _want_ his blood on her hands.

What had even led him to this point was interestingly enough. Working in a computer lab was pretty harmless, so why was he unconscious on a gurney now, being cut into by a makeshift surgeon? Only a week prior, the park had fallen into chaos. Because of one idiot – one singular idiot among the rest of them – the park's most lethal dinosaur had escaped it's enclosure. Beyond that, in an attempt to fix things, Claire released Rexy to fight this threat.

Lowery would do anything for Claire, he'd go to hell and back, he'd love her until the day she died, even if she never quite said the same to him. That's why, when she stood at the security camera and pleaded for help, he had no choice but to open the paddock and let her go. Assuming she had died, Lowery _did not_ evacuate with the rest of the survivors. He stayed behind and did what any man in his position would do. He destroyed any evidence that Claire Dearing was involved in this mess as a shareholder.

Now, that wasn't to say that he wasn't a tough man. His father came from the Air Force, so he had minimal survival skills. He knew how to make a filter for water, scavenge food, and set up basic traps – which were no good against the dinosaurs in hindsight. But still, he soldiered on.

It was a strange coincidence that he had been standing on the top of an elevator shaft when he heard a familiar voice. The only way into the subterranean floor of the Visitor Center was via the elevator now, so what few survivors there were would often climb down the maintenance ladder on the side. He heard her calling to him, it was startling to hear a familiar voice in the middle of the chaos. She didn't say anything to him; she hadn't even recognized he was standing there yet. She was still moving along with a troop of people with guns, presumably hunting for survivors.

He let out a low whistle to get their attention when she turned. It was her. It was Claire; she had come back for him. He stared, shock washing over his features; wanting to run and hug her. It was in that moment he heard a low gurgling noise. _Shit_. In a hasty attempt to escape, he forgot where he was and fell backwards into the elevator shaft. Landing with a thud loud enough to sound like a bomb going off. Groaning in pain, he attempted feebly to stand before falling onto his back again.

The hands that gripped his face felt ice cold. He could hear Kate working idly beside him, humming some kind of song to keep herself calm while she tried to set bones and stitch lacerations. She was their first aid kid, for all intents and purposes; and she did a fantastic job of it. But he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was ushering him to wake. "Lowery James Cruthers, you _are not_ allowed to propose to me and then _die_! No one asked you to stay behind, so you best be getting your ass up off that table and walking onto that boat with me!"

 _Claire?_ Right! She was there, but...he was so weak and tired. He felt helpless against her urging. Maybe a little sleep couldn't hurt; they'd been on edge since the evacuation...no! _Wake up!_ Forcing his eyes to open, his dirty brown eyes stared at her oceanic blue hues for a long time. He was alive. She was alive. What were they waiting for? Then she leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips.


	2. Lost

**Lost**

After everyone had been ferried off the island, Lowery couldn't help but watch those last few red dots that remained within the park. When he woke up that morning, he was looking forward to a cup of coffee and a friendly feud with a coworker. He hadn't expected his entire world to erupt into chaos. Worse still; he was _perfectly fine_. Most people would experience some kind of PTSD after an event like this but...not even a comment was made to the departed.

Long after Hoskins had died, his tracker in his watch long since fading into a flatline, ACU and InGen had vacated the control room leaving Lowery to his own devices. He was alone, just him, the monitors, and his dinosaurs. And he was watching those few blips. Two were moving rather rapidly; one was far off to the left, fading to a light pink color. They were dying or injured. There was a cluster of four in the middle of the welcome center, close together, with one standing far off in the distance. Those four dots were his concern.

It was a few moments later that he noticed one of them break away and move in another direction. _No! You idiot, don't you know what happens when you split up? Have you never seen Scooby Doo?_ He could only hope it was someone unimportant; but that would be lying. Everyone he ever met was important in some form or fashion – even Zara, who had a fate worse than any. He scooted closer to the monitor at his desk and watched the blip moving rapidly.

Soon enough, a new screen popped up on the overhead. It was Claire; she had passed by a security camera, but the damage to the system didn't tell him where she was. Why was _she_ the one to break away? The static came through first from the radio, but he was quick and insistant on picking up that line; his heartache showing through his words. He should be there with her; but he'd just slow her down. This was where he needed to be.

"Lowery, are you still there?"

His hands fumbled, but he found the button and pressed it, hand clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white. If he lost her... "Where the hell are you!?"

"I'm outside Paddock Nine." She replied, looking up into the security camera for added reassurance of her location."I need you to open it for me."

He paused, his hand trembling as he typed in the code, but didn't hit send. The code _he_ memorized, the one that was significant only in the fact that it was the date the first park opened. His hand hovered, his mind racing with thoughts. If she died...what then? You couldn't get back that time once someone was lost. He wanted to ask if she was sure, but she had long since thrown away the radio after chastising him for his lack of bravery. He stood stock still, watching her reflection on the screen; praying she knew what she was doing. "I love you."

The whispered confession was enough as he pressed the button to release Rexie. Maybe she already knew. Maybe she assumed it. But either way, he hoped she knew. He couldn't lose her.


	3. Euphoria

Lowery and Claire had been trying for almost a year to have a child. Their scatter shot approach of winging it and hoping something came out of it wasn't working. They had seen numerous fertility specialists and doctors, and all declared there was nothing wrong with the two semi-healthy individuals. That still didn't explain why they couldn't conceive. At some point during the year, copulating became more of a chore than a commodity. So, after that time trying, they stopped. He gave up the wish of having a family and moved on to new ventures.

It was late in October when he noticed Claire acting differently. At first, it was subtle changes he noticed. The way she carried herself, the fact that she was sick, and the fact that she was sore all the time. Her posture changed and that was startling in itself; even when sick with the flu, she still carried herself like a supermodel and traipsed around in heels. Still, it didn't raise any warning signs, so he would smile and let her go on her way to work.

That night, she came home and fell onto the couch, hand gingerly touching her forehead. Noticing the sudden change again, he offered her some water and tylenol, sitting beside her. "Maybe you should take it easy for a day or two, get some rest…you look like you're worn out, and I'm sure your feet are killing you." Sliding off one of the heels, he gently rubbed her foot. "I know you have the flu, it won't hurt you to take a day off. The park has a backup operations manager for a reason."

"If I take a day off, things get worse." She frowned and rubbed at her temples again. "And I don't think it's the flu. Unless someone dragged it here on the boat, it's most assuredly not the flu." She paused, blue eyes watching him for a reaction. "Remember how you made dinner two nights ago and I said it was a little raw? I think I might have food poisoning."

His hand ceased as he looked at her with a curious gaze. Claire accused him of a lot, but it was his first time trying to make _real food_ for her, and he fucked it up that badly that it made her sick? A frown crossed his lips as he went back to rubbing her other foot. "Well, that may be so, but it doesn't explain why I'm not sick."

"Maybe you're just more tolerant than I am. I do seem to catch colds easier than you." She frowned and took the tylenol, tugging her foot away from his grasp. Her azure hues caught onto his gaze and studied him carefully, noticing that he was now slumped; clearly worried. "Hey, stop, it's not because you can't cook, okay? There's cook books and we can get passed that. I'm going to go get a shower, and I expect you to be waiting in bed for me when I'm done."

As promised, he was waiting in the bed when she was finished her shower. She crawled into bed and nestled against his body. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he held her close and buried his head against her shoulder. That was the routine; he was her heater.

At nearly three in the morning, he groggily turned when he felt her tugging on his arm for freedom. Moving his arm away, he watched her run to the bathroom and frowned. _Damnit, I sure did a number on her this time, didn't I? It can't be that bad, can it?_ Standing from his spot, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tapped on the door. "Can I come in?" The door unlocked and he looked down at the sight of her slumped over the toilet. "That bad?"

"Four days now." She held up four fingers, but it was weak at best. "Four whole days of this. I'm not saying you're a bad cook, but, you could try harder next time."

As the next wave of nausea hit, he gently tugged her hair back and knelt beside her, rubbing her back. "I feel like this could have been avoided somehow." Resting his head against her shoulder, he kept a firm grip on her hair and reached over for a tissue for her to wipe her face. "This helplessness is not a good look on you."

"Lowery, I need to get ready for work." She tried to stand, but her body protested and she nearly fell to the floor. Quick to steady her, he frowned again and felt for a fever. "Stop babying me."

"Claire, quit it." He grumbled sternly, moving her hand away. She started muttering about a shower, so he started it for her and waited patiently outside while she washed. After a few moments, she peaked outside the door and looked to her husband. "Can I join you?"

"Seeing as I'm holding onto the bar for dear life, yes…please. I welcome someone in here to keep me upright." This was most assuredly not like her in the least.

After her shower, he noticed she was weaker than previously. He had to help her dress and style her hair, but in the end, she didn't go to work. He didn't let her. By the time they finished everything, she was passed out in his arms, he kneeling on the floor with her head in his lap, while he dialed an ambulance.

Once in the hospital – where he was sure he should just rent a room in the ER by now – they set her up to a Saline drip and took blood work. She was out for the entire trip, only just now coming to because of the needles in her arm. Those pale blue eyes caught his gaze and he couldn't help but kiss her forehead. "You're okay." It was a preemptive answer. "You passed out on me, hit your head on the counter, but you're okay. You got a little bit of a bruise. I shouldn't have left you alone in this condition."

"Hey, it's okay, I think. I'm still alive, right? Isn't that all that matters?" She tried to laugh but the slight tug on her IV caused her to flinch. "Why did I pass out?"

"I don't know," He started pacing, hands tapping at his sides. "I'm waiting for the blood work, but if I had to guess, I'd say that you were overworked and exhausted. It's not like you to not take care of yourself, despite how overclocked you get."

He looked up when the door opened, hands straying to reach for hers. "Mrs. Cruthers, have you been taking multivitamins? Prenatal vitamins of some kind?"

The ginger shook her head. "No, I stopped taking them because we couldn't conceive, so I didn't think they were necessary anymore. Why? Am I allergic to something?"

"No, Mrs. Cruthers." She smiled gently and looked between them, sliding effortlessly between the bed and Lowery to inject iron into the drip. "You have a severe iron deficiency which causes weakness and dizziness. I would suggest you start taking those prenatal vitamins again."

"Why? Is that the only way I can get iron in a pill form?" Claire was playing dumb, but Lowery's mind was reeling with questions and possibilities.

"By my calculations, you seem to be at least ten or so weeks along in your pregnancy, Mrs. Cruthers."

There was silence in the room, tension so bad that Lowery was finding it difficult to breathe. His hand tightened around hers, earning the same in return. Brown eyes watered and he started to cry, turning to his wife. "Claire."

"I know, I heard her." With her history, Claire was finding it hard to be excited about the news, but she knew how excited he must be. "I…have a history…"

"We're well aware, Mrs. Cruthers, I assure you that everything will be taken care of to the best of our abilities. Don't miss your check ups. When the IV finishes, I would suggest going home and getting some rest. We'll have a prescription for iron supplements for you. You'll have to cut back your hours at work, maybe think of taking a sabbatical for some time, depending on how stressed you get. We'll be monitoring your condition carefully." The doctor scribbled down a prescription and handed it over to Lowery, whom pocketed the slip of paper and turned to his wife. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"No…I think we're okay." Claire replied. She looked up at her husband, careful not to move too much. "Are you–"

"Do you think it's a boy? I…would really like a son. Wait, what do you want? I don't think we ever discussed this. You seem like you'd want a daughter…" She leaned up and kissed him on the lips, shutting him up mid sentence. "…is that a no on the daughter?"


End file.
